


Tiny Cooking with Aziraphale

by vol_ctrl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bad Cooking, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Crepes, Crowley is an Enabler, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Macro Crowley, Macro/Micro, Messy, Micro Aziraphale, Miniature Aziraphale, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Sexual Roleplay, Tiny Cooking, Victorian, cock riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 06:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21231131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl/pseuds/vol_ctrl
Summary: Crowley introduces Aziraphale to the YouTube phenomena of tiny cooking. Aziraphale's new found obsession leads to these two idiots making their own tiny cooking set, and Crowley suggests Aziraphale put himself in the video. Crowley's daydreaming about adorable, tiny Aziraphale inspires some less-than-innocent thoughts from his angel. (Written for Kinktober 2019.)





	Tiny Cooking with Aziraphale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tezca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tezca/gifts).

> I've never written macro/micro before, but I love me a good kink challenge! I hope you enjoy it!!

Blessed were the quiet times after the aborted End of the World. Alas, they had been less quiet on this particular day, when Aziraphale was trying very much to enjoy a rainy day in the bookshop. The sign was turned to ‘closed,’ and he had put out most of the lights, relegating all the warm and cozy light to the back room where he was reading.

Crowley was in attendance today, as he had been nearly every day since they had survived their respective body-swap ordeals in Heaven and Hell. Usually, the demon was content to sit by Aziraphale's side as he read until, inevitably, the temptation of a snack was offered and sweetly accepted. The rest of the time, Crowley would curl up around the angel until he could no longer focus on the words he was reading, distracted by his beloved demon's own whims.

The love between them, albeit unspoken, had been painfully obvious all along. The night they had been perched precariously on the precipice between having averted Armageddon and facing their superiors for their betrayal, had been the night that they threw aside the facade of friendship. That night, Crowley had told Aziraphale he loved him and would do anything for him—even face the forces of Hell, or Heaven, and certain obliviation. That night, they had finally fallen into each other’s arms. They had spent what could have been their final hours writing their love and desire across each other’s bodies.

Since then, everything had fallen into place quite nicely. Aziraphale had quickly proved that Crowley’s assumptions about his sexual appetite were ill-conceived, and Crowley had learned to be careful what he wished for. Although Crowley was often the instigator, Aziraphale by far had the greater appetite, as in all things, for bodily pleasure.

It almost came as a surprise on this cozy, rainy day of all days that the serpent of Eden was not coiled around his angel seeking warmth and attention. Instead, the demon was sprawled on the loveseat on his phone. It started with a little titter here and there coming from the demon glued to his phone. Aziraphale had come to ignore this kind of noise when Crowley was on his phone, as the photo-manipulations and "memes" he was often giggling over did little to tickle the angel.

For about ten minutes now, Crowley had been absolutely giddy.

“Dear,” Aziraphale lowered his book and peered at Crowley over his glasses, nonplussed to be so interrupted. “Just what are you finding so funny?”

Crowley lowered his phone and peeked up at Aziraphale. “Oh. Sorry, angel.” He grinned. “I just…” He let out a little ‘hee.’ “Oh, you’re gonna love this. You’re not gonna believe it.” He melted off the loveseat and onto his feet with surprising grace and walked over to perch himself on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair.

Aziraphale adjusted his glasses to peer at Crowley’s outstretched phone, doubtful he would find whatever it was that Crowley had been giggling at so amusing, himself. The demon restarted the video, holding his phone horizontally so the video took up the whole screen. The video appeared to be set in a kitchen, a very charmingly decorated one. Aziraphale was briefly bewildered as a giant hand entered the kitchen from the ceiling and opened the now clearly miniature fridge.

“What?” The angel blinked as the giant hand proceeded to take out what looked like a miniature pork cutlet. Then, the hand opened one of the cabinets and took out several miniature dry ingredients, placing each gently on the countertop in the middle of the kitchen.

When the hand began gathering miniature tools, Crowley giggled and preened. “Look at that mallet! It’s so little! Watch this,” he urged. The hand carefully set up the pork cutlet under a bit of plastic and began patting the meat flat.

“I… don’t know what I’m looking at…” Aziraphale whispered in wonder, mesmerized.

“Tiny cooking!” Crowley said with glee. “It’s a tiny kitchen, with tiny food, and- and-” Crowley gasped with laughter, “they actually cook things! Watch.”

Aziraphale watched, bemused, as the giant hand proceeded to oh-so carefully dredge the pork in flour, egg-wash, and panko. The hand lit a candle under a tiny burner and prepared a tiny pan of oil. Despite the bizarreness of the scene, Aziraphale found his mouth watering as he watched the cutlet fry up perfectly golden brown, then flipped with tiny tongs.

“What in the world… is this?” Aziraphale asked, a smile spreading across his lips.

“Absolutely brilliant is what it is.  _ Why. _ ” Crowley howled.

“Are there… more videos like this?” Aziraphale murmured curiously.

Crowley smiled, minimized the video, and scrolled through the video recommendations underneath with a flourish. “ _ Dozens,  _ angel.”

Aziraphale became obsessed. It was highly unusual that anything to do with technology would capture the angel so, but he suddenly became quite handy with You-Tube and familiar with dozens of different channels. Crowley remained fascinated for another day or two, but Aziraphale’s new obsession spanned more than a week.

“Have you seen this one with a whole roast chicken? It’s marvelous!” Aziraphale said giddily.

Crowley looked over at Aziraphale from where he was sprawled on the chair opposite him. It was very strange seeing his anachronistic angel glued to the cellphone he had ignored for so long.

“Hey, angel.”

Aziraphale dragged his eyes away from the screen and smiled at Crowley. “Yes, dear?”

“Why don’t you make your own videos?”

“What? Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that…” Aziraphale lowered his phone thoughtfully. “Do you… think I could?”

“Course you could!” Crowley sat forward with a grin. “I’ve heard you critiquing these videos for a week. I think you’ve watched just about every one of those videos on YouTube twice. Why not?”

“Well… Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale pursed his lips, “You know I’m not much of a cook…”

“I’ll help with the cooking part. And it would be easy--just miracle up a little set--”

“That’s not very sporting. These humans take such pride in their craftsmanship, all the effort put into finding the right miniatures and making what they can’t find…”

Crowley quirked a brow at Aziraphale. “Alright, so we’ll  _ make  _ it. Just like the humans do.”

Aziraphale’s thoughtful look turned into a gleeful glow. “Oh, what fun.”

They set to work that very afternoon. Ever methodical, Aziraphale carefully planned out how he wanted his miniature kitchen to be arranged. His design was ambitious, and Crowley was certain they’d have to fudge things a little bit with some  _ creative liberties _ to get it just right.

“Oh, Crowley, it’s lovely! You didn’t have to finish it for me.”

“Nah, just a few finishing touches.” He didn’t want Aziraphale to know that he had made some of the final adjustments with a touch of miraculous finesse. The set was exactly to the angel’s specifications, down to the littlest detail, he was sure.

Aziraphale leaned down close to the miniature set, his eyes alight.

“Got the camera set up, too,” Crowley said and gave the device a little pat where it stood on its short table-top tripod.

“What shall we make first?” Aziraphale straightened and clasped his hands together, veritably glowing with anticipation.

“Hmm… my first thought was crepes, since you like them so much.” Crowley could practically see Aziraphale’s mouth watering.

“Oh yes, let’s do! They’re fairly simple to make, aren’t they?” Crowley’s aptitude with cookery was magical to Aziraphale—even more impressive than his own taste for sleight-of-hand tricks that Crowley so loathed.

“Dead easy,” Crowley agreed. “Now—hear me out on this,” the demon grinned and leaned lazily against the table. “It’d be no fun for you if I’m just doing all the cooking and you’re watching from behind the camera. It’s  _ your  _ video, after all. So I was thinking…” Crowley licked his lips and his grin stretched wider. “What if… you’re  _ in  _ the tiny kitchen.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Whatever do you mean, my dear?”

Crowley looked at the angel over his glasses. “I mean… Have you ever changed the size of your corporation?”

Aziraphale’s hands smoothed over his waistcoat, subconsciously brushing over his belly that  _ could  _ have been smaller…

“Not your  _ shape, _ angel,” Crowley said easily as he pushed back from the table. His hands dismissed Aziraphale’s and slid over the angel's soft middle, over the love handles Crowley had always adored and made much use of since the Apocanot. “Your  _ size. _ You know, to get out of a tight spot, or…” Judging by the look on Aziraphale’s face, the angel had not. “It’s easy,” the demon said in a reassuring tone.

Aziraphale melted into Crowley’s touch and his hands slid up the demon’s lean chest. “So, what, just shrink down?” he asked.

“Yeah. Then it’ll be like being  _ in  _ one of those videos,” Crowley offered with a grin. “I’ll play the part of the mysterious giant in the sky, and show you what to do. I’ll,” he snickered, “ _ give you a hand. _ ”

Aziraphale chuckled. “That would be…” The angel’s smile blossomed soft and sweet. “Oh, Crowley, that would be such fun!” His eyes flicked back and forth from where his fingers were tracing the pronounced line of the demon’s clavicle and the glasses shielding his eyes. “It’s not too silly, is it?”

“Silly? It’s gonna be a laugh riot!” Crowley cackled. “I haven’t seen you this excited about something not book-related in… centuries!”

“Alright,” Aziraphale agreed readily. “Let’s do it.” He gave Crowley’s chest a little pat of eagerness. “Now, the shrinking bit. Explain that to me.”

Crowley released Aziraphale with a little squeeze and stepped back to explain the minutiae of rearranging one’s molecules to retain human form in miniature. Aziraphale was a bit apprehensive, but considering they had accomplished the arguably more tricky feat of switching ethereal and occult bodies, excitement smothered any nagging worries.

They made several attempts, one of which ended up with Aziraphale drowning in his usual clothes as the form of a much younger version of himself. Crowley had almost discorporated from the cuteness of it. Eventually, however, Aziraphale succeeded in miniaturizing himself.

“You got it!” Crowley crouched down to look at the tiny Aziraphale. “Not as cute as you as a kid, but…” Crowley offered his hand to the tiny angel. “Still pretty damn cute.”

“Hold on a minute,” Aziraphale said in a squeaky voice. Crowley fell over laughing. “Oh dear,” he said, as if he’d just sucked all the helium from a balloon. “Just a moment…” He covered his ears against Crowley’s deafening laughter and tried to adjust his inner ears to be less sensitive to the booming racket. He hesitantly uncovered his ears. Satisfied with the adjusted volume, he touched his throat and cleared it. “There?” His voice was quiet, but no longer hilariously high-pitched. “There we are,” he said and cleared his throat again. “Crowley, dear, stop laughing your head off. It wasn’t  _ that  _ funny.”

“Oh, God,” Crowley gasped for breath. “You should have heard yourself!” He cackled as he righted himself. “It was that funny.” He shuffled closer and studied the tiny angel. “Never thought I’d see the day. Pocket-sized angel. You’re perfect.”

Aziraphale straightened his bow-tie and smiled up at the enormous demon. There was something strangely comforting about Crowley so huge before him. Crowley always made him feel safe, like a security blanket, and now he was huge, like a god or a guardian. Besides, now he could appreciate every precious inch of his beauty. It was as if there were more of him to drink in, to love. Despite his lanky form, Crowley gave the impression in his dark clothes and his narrow posture of trying to make himself smaller, less visible. In intimate moments, he felt almost fragile in Aziraphale’s arms. The angel was surprised by the feeling of being  _ protected  _ while he was so small and Crowley was so large.

“How’s it feel?” Crowley asked, peering over his glasses.

Aziraphale’s heart warmed to see those serpentine eyes and that perfect grin so blown up. “It feels… nice. Strangely so. I… don’t mind the view at all,” he said pleasantly.

The demon felt his cheeks grow warm. Aziraphale’s sweet tone always made him hot under the collar—apparently even when he was only six inches tall. He cleared his throat and reached slowly toward the angel. “Can I…” he wondered quietly, but wasn’t sure how to ask if he could just touch him.

“Don’t be shy, my dear,” Aziraphale chuckled. He stepped forward and met Crowley’s hand. He reached up and touched Crowley’s finger, tickled by the strangeness of the perspective.

An awkward laugh wrestled its way out of Crowley’s throat.

“I would advise being gentle, but I’m solid enough,” Aziraphale said. He pulled Crowley’s finger toward himself and brought it against his cheek. The demon’s finger felt a bit rougher than usual, but it was familiar even on a grand scale.

Crowley’s hand twitched as he felt the whisper of Aziraphale’s tiny hands grasp him. The demon’s quiet intake of breath might have been inaudible had Aziraphale’s ears not been more sensitive from his diminutive form. Aziraphale felt so small and soft. Crowley brushed his finger over the angel’s hair. “You’re so… tiny,” Crowley whispered and tried to contain the swell of endearment that washed over him. He still wrestled with how to express his feelings toward his angel, and when they came on so suddenly, it was instinct to suppress them.

“Shall we check and make sure I’m in scale with the kitchen? I think the proportions are correct.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s hand closer to the ground and the demon gingerly scooped him up.

“R-right.” The demon carefully cradled Aziraphale in his hands, his precious angel so dainty in his palm. Aziraphale held onto his thumb as Crowley strode over to the table with their little set upon it. He barely suppressed a shiver at the novel sensation of Aziraphale walking across his palm to reach the table.

The angel swelled with pleasure as he approached the tiny kitchen. It felt like he was walking onto the set of one of his favorite videos, but with his own tastes in mind. He had gone for a Victorian aesthetic, with period-appropriate patterned wallpaper and a fat-bellied iron stove. A shelf along one wall displayed a lovely china set painted with delicate blue vines, accented with gold. There were a few baskets in one corner with prop goods from the market. The kitchen centered around a nice wooden butcher block table where most of the cooking would be done.

Aziraphale ran his hand along the butcher block and marveled at how odd it was to be to scale with the miniature. A few things seemed slightly out of place now that he could see it from this perspective, so he tried to adjust them. At his current size, it was just as difficult as moving any object so much larger than himself.

“Crowley, dear?” Aziraphale asked as he tried to shift the ice box a bit closer to the cabinets. The demon looked up from fiddling with the camera. “Could you,” Aziraphale grunted, “help me by shifting this a bit?”

Crowley grinned, overjoyed by his tiny angel. “Course,” he said and took a step over to the set.

Aziraphale watched as Crowley’s massive hand dipped in from above and carefully nudged the ice box over a bit. He was overcome by a sudden thrill seeing that giant hand in the kitchen, just like in all the videos he had pored over in the past week.

Crowley caught the beaming excitement on Aziraphale face and laughed. “What?”

“Oh… It’s just like being in one of those videos!” Aziraphale said eagerly. 

Aziraphale’s joy was absolutely infectious. “Anything else out of place?” Crowley asked fondly. It was so lovely to see Aziraphale as giddy as he had been once he’d finally gotten everything into place in his bookshop all those years ago. Crowley hadn’t been there for the final touches, but when he finally walked in sometime in the early 19th century, Aziraphale had been positively beaming.

The angel clasped his hands thoughtfully against his lips and turned a critical eye on the space. It was truly his dream kitchen. A Victorian-style kitchen would have seemed out of place in this modern age, had he kept one of its like in his own abode. Alas, he’d had to update his own kitchenette in his flat above the bookshop to keep up with the times—and more so, recently as Crowley groaned about the antiquated appliances Aziraphale had clung to—but here, in his own little fantasy kitchen, everything was just how he liked it. A solid, fat-bellied, stove—the miniature of which was luckily real, honest iron—was surrounded by faux stone. On one side of the three-walled set there were wooden cabinets and a long rod upon which hung rustic copper pots and pans. The other wall was occupied by racks that displayed fine china dishes. A plush little circular rug lay between the hearth and the butcher block workspace.

“No, it’s… it’s all here. It’s just right.”

“Then let’s get cooking!” Crowley pressed the button to start the recording. “Do a little introduction, angel,” the demon urged quietly.

“What?” Aziraphale spun around to look at the camera and the demon grinning behind it. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly actually show this to anyone. How would I explain the, erm,” he gestured toward his shrunk form.

Crowley waved his hand. “Bugger it. Chalk it up to special effect whatsit. Don’t worry about it.”

Aziraphale’s apprehensive look melted into one of cautious optimism. “Well, alright... I didn’t prepare anything but…” He fidgeted with his waistcoat, then put on a sunny smile that melted Crowley’s heart. “Hello fellow tiny food enthusiasts. Welcome to my kitchen.” The angel spread an arm out to present his pride and joy. “It’s a bit old fashioned, but you don’t need all the modern amenities to make something properly!”

Crowley crossed his arms and watched as Aziraphale moved over to the stove. “Now, we’ll need to get the hearth going if we’re going to get any cooking done. Dear, if you would be so kind?” Aziraphale requested.

The demon gave a little start. “Oh, right.” He snapped and set the hearth ablaze.

“ _ Crowley, _ ” Aziraphale scolded him for his excessive use of a miracle.

“What?” he whispered, “Special effects.”

Aziraphale sighed, then brightened for his imagined audience. “I’ll be cooking today with the help of my resident culinary expert, Crowley.”

Crowley moved around from behind the camera and lowered his hand into the frame to give a little wave.

“I hope you all enjoy our little show.” Aziraphale beamed at the camera once more, then looked up at Crowley. “All these videos have pleasant music playing during the actual cooking. No need to listen to me blathering on the whole time.”

“You blather beautifully, angel,” Crowley preened.

Aziraphale gave him a soft smile. “Nevermind that. Now, you tell me what to do.”

“First we’ll make the batter,” he instructed and had Aziraphale gather all the ingredients from the cabinets. Every item was, of course, in period-appropriate vessels, earthenware jars for the flour and sugar, small quail eggs in a basket, a tiny cellar for the salt. Crowley helpfully got out two bowls and two whisks for Aziraphale, fighting back giggles at the silliness of it all.

“Measure out the flour and a pinch of salt into that bowl and whisk it.”

“Just the flour by itself?”

“Yeah, to get out any lumps.” Crowley took one of the quail eggs and delicately cracked it into one of the bowls. He then fetched a tiny jar of milk from the ice box and poured it into the bowl. “Why do people make these videos?” Crowley laughed as Aziraphale used the tiny whisk to awkwardly mix the eggs and milk.

“They’re darling,” Aziraphale urged warmly.

“Alright, you keep whisking and I’ll pour the wet stuff in.” Crowley had never actually cooked with Aziraphale. The angel was always hovering around the kitchen when he cooked, feasting on the smells and the anticipation of whatever his darling demon was cooking up for him, but he never even asked about the process. He seemed to enjoy the mystery of how his favorite indulgences came to be.

The angel dutifully whisked as Crowley slowly poured the eggs and milk into his bowl, though his arm grew tired from Crowley’s agonizingly slow pace. “Must you pour so slowly?”

“Lumps, angel. Lumps are the enemy of a good crepe,” Crowley insisted.

“You’re the expert,” Aziraphale sighed.

“That should be alright. Just mix it a bit more while I get the pan.” Crowley’s large hand drifted past Aziraphale and the angel felt a little thrill. It was so blessed strange to be inside his own tiny kitchen fantasy and he just wanted to hug Crowley’s giant fingers for the pleasure of it.

Crowley took one of the pans delicately off the hook and placed it on the pot-bellied stove. “Careful, angel, this pan is gonna get real hot on your ridiculous Victorian stove.”

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale bustled over to grab a tiny tea towel and with a little flourish, he flipped it over his shoulder.

“Now you look like a real cook.” Crowley grinned. “Now grab the butter and,” the demon’s hand flitted over Aziraphale’s head to fetch him a ladle, “a ladle for the batter, and we’ll get to making crepes.”

Aziraphale practically flounced over to the stove with the batter and butter in hand. He set them down on a stool by the hearth.

“Just a bit of butter in the pan,” Crowley instructed.

Aziraphale was satisfied with the sizzle as the fat hit the pan.

“Tilt the pan,” Crowley reached down to demonstrate and forgot his own warning. When everything looked so tiny, it was hardly at the forefront of his mind to be worried about burns! “Ow!” he hissed as he jerked his hand reflexively back from the hot cast iron handle.

“Oh, dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale worried and looked up as Crowley grimaced and shook his hand. He inspected the tiny burn on his finger with a hiss of displeasure. “Let me see,” Aziraphale cooed.

“Motherfucker,” Crowley grumbled. “I did say that shit would be hot.” He slowly lowered his hand for Aziraphale to inspect. The angel’s tiny hands cradled his finger and inspected the little white-hot mark surrounded by angry red. Aziraphale’s hands were soft as a whisper against his skin, and that alone made the pain seem duller. Aziraphale’s tiny frame bent forward and the angel placed a healing kiss on the mark.

“There,” Aziraphale said sweetly and looked up to find Crowley cherry red.

“Th-thanks…” he muttered and adjusted his glasses in that shy way of his, as if by hiding his eyes he could hide the flush of his cheeks.

“Now, let me handle the hot things.” Aziraphale took the tea towel from over his shoulder and folded it into a mitt to wrap around the hot arm of the pan. It was heavier than he expected, so he had to use two hands to tilt the pan and swirl the butter over the bottom.

Crowley tried to suppress his amusement at how awkward Aziraphale looked trying to cook for the first time.

“Am I doing it wrong?” Aziraphale asked.

“No, angel. You’re doing just fine,” Crowley managed. “You just need a little bit of batter,” he explained and carefully took the tiny ladle from the bowl. He tipped it into the pan and used the curved bottom to spread the sizzling batter in an even circle. “Hmm, need something to help flip it. Shit, it cooks quick. Just a second,” he said and stomped off in frantic search. “Where did we leave those toothpicks?”

“They’re on the shelf in the hall,” Aziraphale called upward, but didn’t dare take his eyes off the batter. It wasn’t doing much, but Crowley seemed in a panic to find a toothpick and fast.

The demon came barrelling back to the set. “Got it. Okay. Let me flip this first one.” Aziraphale stepped back from the stove and let Crowley’s enormous hands take his place. The demon carefully lifted the pan a bit, tea towel in place to protect his fingertips, and used the toothpick that could have been a walking stick for Aziraphale in his current dimensions to lift up the edge of the crepe and carefully flip it over. “Fetch me a plate, would you?” Crowley asked. He felt incredibly silly with his hands full with a pan slightly larger than a pound coin and a toothpick.

Aziraphale went to the sideboard and took down one of the fine china plates. He brought it over just in time for Crowley to slide the finished crepe onto it. “Crepe!” the demon proclaimed happily.

“It’s so simple,” Aziraphale marveled as he eyed the singular crepe with mouth-watering intent. “How come you don’t make these for me more often?”

“Because I’d be making crepes morning, noon, and night, angel.”

Aziraphale tilted his head, acknowledging the truth of it.

“Now you try,” Crowley said as he put the pan back down. “You can use the butter knife to help flip on your end.”

Crowley made it look so blessed simple, even when his tools were miniature, but Aziraphale had some trouble. His first crepe was too thin and tore when he tried to flip it. The next wasn’t even and ended up folded over. By his fifth attempt, he finally succeeded in flipping the damn crepe over without issue. However, by then his arms were tired from all the mixing and lugging the heavy iron pan around, so he proclaimed he was going to make himself some tea and let Crowley finish up the cooking.

The angel looked positively precious perched on a stool by the hearth with a tiny teacup and saucer in hand. His attire fit the setting so perfectly, and Crowley found himself daydreaming about a quaint little Victorian dollhouse for his sweet little angel to inhabit. He enjoyed cohabitating with Aziraphale more days than not now that they were out from under the thumbs of their respective sides and had little to worry about how often they were seen together. But the idea of watching the little angel go about his business in miniature tickled a fancy Crowley didn’t know he had.

Aziraphale'd have a miniature library full of itty-bitty books, and a generous armchair to sit in. He’d take a book to the bath with him, a deep, claw-footed affair, filled easily with a mere shot-full of water. Although Aziraphale wasn’t much for sleep, Crowley could just imagine him dressed in his overlong nightshirt, cuddling up in bed.

The only downside was at his current size, he wouldn’t be able to cuddle up beside his tiny angel. But he was so blessed precious at this scale. He found his train of thought wandering into Lilliputian territory. What would it be like to feel his tiny angel climbing up his shirt? Well, to be fair, Aziraphale probably wouldn’t  _ climb,  _ but… He could put him on his shoulder. A literal angel on his shoulder. He grinned at the thought. Would Aziraphale creep over to steal a tiny kiss from his cheek?

“What are you smiling about, my dear?” Aziraphale had been watching the distracted look on Crowley’s face as it had grown dopier and dopier. Currently, the demon was grinning like a drunk loon with the most precious blush to his cheeks.

“What?” Crowley snapped back to the present, only to find that Aziraphale was still tiny and adorable, sitting there with his tea. “I wasn’t–” he cleared his throat, “Nothing. Just.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at Crowley for a moment, then put down his cup. “You just had the dreamiest look on your face. Whatever were you dreaming up?”

“I… uh- ngk,” Crowley choked. “I was just… thinking about other stuff you could do when you’re all… miniature-Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale blinked at the demon, then gasped. “Crowley!” he cried. “You naughty thing…” His tone dipped in a mock-aghast tone that almost approached sultry.

“What? No!” Crowley hissed. “I wasn’t–not  _ that, _ ” he insisted.

Aziraphale smirked and rose from his stool. He walked over to where Crowley’s long-fingered hand was draped over into the set. “We can discuss what other things I can do in this size  _ after  _ crepes, dear.” He ran a hand over the broad angle of Crowley’s thumb much the same way he might have caressed the demon's shoulder when normally sized, and it sent the same kind of electricity through Crowley's body.

“Would you fetch me a bit of that lemon curd?” Aziraphale asked innocently.

Crowley swallowed around the lump in his throat. Even in diminutive form, Aziraphale’s easy way of blending the innocent and the suggestive was highly effective. He wandered away on unsteady feet, heart pounding in his ears as he wondered what his sly lover was cooking up in that perfectly-curled head of his.

Aziraphale had set the table for one by the time Crowley returned with the jar of lemon curd. He put the incongruously large jar in the tiny kitchen near Aziraphale and went to fetch a stool so he could sit by the table on which the set was placed.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Aziraphale teased the demon as he looked at the jar that was as large as himself.

“Keep your pants on,” Crowley shot back as he dragged a stool over noisily. Once he had flopped onto the stool, he grabbed the jar and wrenched it open, then set it back down near Aziraphale.

The angel shot him a look that said he had intended for Crowley to put it in a bowl for him, then flounced off to fetch a bowl and spoon for himself. Once he had his lemon curd, the setting was complete. Crowley picked the jar back up and closed it, setting it aside so it didn’t ruin the aesthetic.

Crowley leaned his chin on his hand, slumped half on the table so he could watch his tiny angel enjoy his tiny crepes, that smile creeping back onto his face.

Aziraphale gave his classic little wiggle of delight as he prepared himself a crepe with lemon curd. “Now, do tell me what you had in mind, dear? Your imagination is lovely.”

Crowley gave a little start. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “It… it was nothing really. Just… dumb.”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a look, pinned him with those soft blue eyes.

“Alright,” Crowley relented. “I was just thinking about… a whole little Victorian house.” He scratched at his cheek. “Like the place I had back then. In Westminster.”

“Oh, I did so love that house. Although the wallpaper did make me queasy. Don’t know how you could stand it.”

Crowley snickered. “Like they say,  _ arsenic is forever. _ ”

“Nix the arsenic wallpaper, and, yes, that would be lovely.” Aziraphale let out a little noise of pleasure as he took a bite of crepe. “Is that all, dear?”

“Your imagination puts me to shame, angel,” Crowley admitted with a lift of his eyebrows. The demon had found himself reeling on more than one occasion after exposed to Aziraphale’s imaginative ways in the bedroom. Something about all those books he coveted. Crowley had always assumed the contents were as dry and dusty as their exteriors, but just as with his seemingly innocent angel, one was mistaken to judge a book by its cover.

Aziraphale chuckled. “I was just thinking,” he said and dabbed at his mouth delicately with a napkin, “how you look… almost god-like.”

Crowley’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “God-like?” he whispered. “That’s a long shot.”

“Hardly, my dear. You’ve saved me countless times over the years. And I do credit you with saving the world.”

“Stoppp,” Crowley moaned. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“No, dear, truly. And you’ve doted on me so.” Aziraphale smiled sunnily as he looked around his tiny kitchen. “You deserve my worship,” he said warmly, and that smile took on just a little bit of a bastard tinge, that deceptively sweet suggestive smile.

Crowley felt heat creeping into his cheeks, and elsewhere. Aziraphale’s brand of dirty talk always had that effect on Crowley, and he was still stunned by the angel’s methods. “How would you… worship me?” he asked quietly.

"Oh, my dear." Aziraphale replied with a tilt of his head, preening under his demon's undivided attention. "There are only so many ways I could lay tribute to your generosity..." Cutting a little morsel off his plate, the angel held it a centimeter from his mouth, considering it with a half-lidded, idle hunger that reminded Crowley of many a hedonistic romp through their sheets. "I would worship your lips, which bless me with such kind words. I would worship every bit of you, inch by inch... I would  _ gladly _ offer myself to you."

Crowley bit the inside of his cheek. How could Aziraphale be so precious and yet so naughty? The juxtaposition would never get old. “You’re a bad angel,” Crowley growled with a smirk.

“Let me prove just how good I can be to you,” Aziraphale said. He took the last bite of the crepe on his plate and wiped his lips. “You deserve every bit of it.” The angel lifted his teacup to smiling lips as he watched Crowley shift with that subtle impatience for his next move.

Once he had chased the delightful flavor of fresh crepes and scrumptious lemon curd with a cleansing spot of tea, he put aside his napkin and stood. “Come here, my dear,” he said softly, beckoning Crowley as he walked toward him.

Crowley lowered his chin toward the table and couldn’t help grinning as Aziraphale’s small hands tickled his jaw. The angel kissed his broad smirk, and the demon gave a little wiggle of delight. “Tickles,” he whispered, and his breath tousled Aziraphale’s hair.

“Does it please you, my Lord?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley bristled at that title, and Aziraphale could feel the warmth radiating from his face. “My Lord?” the demon mumbled.

“You are like a god to me, O Lord Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, leaning into the term of reverence.

Being called ‘my Lord’ was definitely doing things to Crowley. A delicious shiver ran down his spine and pooled between his legs. “Yes…” Crowley faltered for a moment, then smoothed himself out, “yes, it pleases me.”

“Would you take me to your place of worship so that I may praise you?” Aziraphale asked as he ran a finger over the curve of Crowley’s lower lip.

Crowley didn’t need more encouragement than that. “Come, my angel,” he said as he sat back and offered his hand with a flourish. Aziraphale alighted onto his palm and Crowley brought him gently to his shoulder. The angel stepped lightly onto Crowley’s shoulder, then moved closer to his neck and held onto a little lock of hair behind his ear.

The tiny tug of Aziraphale’s weight steadied by clutching his hair set his nerves alight. He stood up carefully and limited his propensity to saunter as he ferried Aziraphale through the back-most room and up the spiral staircase to the angel's modest flat.

“You’ve been so good to me, my Lord,” Aziraphale whispered in Crowley’s ear, stroking the tender skin just behind his ear. “You’re always watching over me, seeing to my every desire… It’s only fitting that I should see to yours.”

Crowley’s eyes drooped almost shut as he savored Aziraphale’s praise and bit his lip. As he entered the bedroom, he carefully took the tiny angel from his shoulder. Aziraphale felt so fragile seated in his hands, but he was still solid and soft;  _ delicate. _

“Your touch is so powerful,” Aziraphale breathed.

Crowley ran his thumb experimentally over Aziraphale’s clothed chest as the angel reclined in his palm. “I’ll have to restrain my power with you, little angel,” he husked.

The angel arched into the firm pad of his thumb. It was truly extraordinary, to be touched so much all at once. Aziraphale ached to feel that encompassing warmth against his bare flesh, overcome in ways he usually inflicted on Crowley. The demon was too much of a pleasure when overwhelmed. 

“I trust you, my Lord. Use your power upon my body,” Aziraphale coaxed Crowley.

The demon snapped with his free hand and rid the angel of his clothes. He smoothed his thumb over Aziraphale’s chest and the angel let out a sweet moan. His small arms embraced the broad thumb, and Crowley could see that Aziraphale was nearly as aroused as himself by way of the familiar flush of his cheeks, not to mention the rise of his cock between bare thighs.

“How does it feel, to be blessed by the touch of a god?” Crowley intoned as he removed his sunglasses.

“ _ Heavenly, _ ” Aziraphale moaned. “Even just this…” Aziraphale bit his lip as he dragged his chest against Crowley’s thumb. It was an incredibly novel sensation, to feel every ridge of the demon’s soft touch magnified, the heat of Crowley’s touch against so much of him at once. He looked up and saw those serpentine eyes revealed, so full of hunger. “Oh, to be blessed with your gaze…”

Crowley felt himself blushing, as he always did when Aziraphale complimented his eyes. “You worship me well with your words,” he said softly. “But I think a certain angel promised to worship me in other ways…”

“Yes, my Lord. Anything for you,” Aziraphale promised.

The demon lay Aziraphale on the bed gently. Indulgent in all things, Aziraphale was taken by the sea of soft quilt spread out around him. Crowley undressed and could feel the angel’s eyes on him, his gaze no less intense in his small form. He knew how much Aziraphale liked to see every inch exposed, but the angel wasn’t in a state where he could relish removing every garment himself.

“My Lord is so beautiful,” Aziraphale crooned as he crawled on hands and knees toward the demon, eagerly awaiting his lover to join him on the bed. The expanse of sheets from this size made him anticipate being able to crawl over the expanse of his lover.

Crowley eased onto the bed and stretched into a languid pose befitting a god. “Worship me, angel,” he beckoned.

Aziraphale crept toward where the demon lay invitingly on his back, propped up on the pillows against the headboard. He approached his hip, a favored aspect of his lean, wily serpent, and ran his fingers along the sharp angle jutting from his frame. The demon shivered and ran a finger delicately up Aziraphale’s back. The feeling of his tiny hands whispering over his flesh was so strange and yet so tempting. The angel pulled himself up onto Crowley’s side, kissing all the way. Crowley’s head tipped back with an indulgent sigh.

Aziraphale marked his worship across Crowley’s torso, fulfilling his promise to appreciate every bit of him, inch by inch. The demon had already been hard before undressing, but his cock twitched appreciatively at the angel’s feather-light kisses. Once Aziraphale had made his way up the ladder of Crowley’s ribcage, he focused his attention on the demon’s sensitive nipple. Instead of capturing the bud in one mouthful, the diminutive angel was forced to lavish as much attention on it as he might have given Crowley’s cock while normally sized.

Crowley alternated between growling and whimpering at the almost too-soft tickle of Aziraphale’s tongue. The tiny swipes of Aziraphale’s pink tongue revealed even greater sensitivities, and Crowley felt his cock leaking untouched against his stomach.

Aziraphale loved to hear the sounds that spilled from Crowley’s lips, sometimes reluctant, other times spilling over, unable to be contained. This new aspect seemed to have him increasingly in quite a state. Crowley’s mounting arousal had its own effect on his angelic lover. Aziraphale was indulgent in all things, and most of all, in enjoying Crowley’s pleasure.

“Angel,” he moaned and stroked Aziraphale’s back appreciatively.

“Do you like this, my Lord?” Aziraphale asked in a husky tone.

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed.

“Look at what your pleasure is doing to me…” Aziraphale sat up on his knees, exposing his own dripping cock.

The view was intoxicating, like his own perfect Aziraphale doll graced upon his chest, the very picture of flushed debauchery. Crowley wanted to taste him, to drive Aziraphale mad with his tongue in new ways. He cupped Aziraphale in his palm and brought him close.

“You’re worshipping me so well,” he whispered, relishing the way Aziraphale trembled at his hot breath against every inch of his naked skin at once. The angel gasped as Crowley opened his mouth and extended his tongue.

The angel could hardly prepare himself for the stimulation of that very skilled tongue laving over all of him, a sinful full-body caress of hot, slick intensity. He cried out and shuddered, gripping onto Crowley’s fingers for support. “O-oh God!” Aziraphale cried. “Oh my Lord,” he moaned and shook.

Crowley ran his tongue over Aziraphale’s thighs, plump and perfect, and flicked over the angel’s slick cock. He caught just the faintest taste of his precome, overwhelmed by the delicious taste of the rest of his skin.

“C-Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped and rutted eagerly against his lord's tongue when he dragged it slowly up the angel's length.

The demon licked his lips and tilted his head to take in the flushed mess of his lover. Aziraphale was panting, the extraordinary heat of his skin and the tongue that had visited his corporation painting him pink.

“You’re not done worshipping me, are you?” Crowley asked. Rarely was he in the position of power. He liked to surrender to Aziraphale’s sweet commands, readily submitting to anything he desired. But by the very nature of the difference in their sizes, he found himself leaning in to taking charge.

“N-no, my Lord,” Aziraphale breathed. He was stunned for the moment, his skin on fire and missing Crowley’s tongue desperately. “Oh, I will worship you,” he said desperately. He steadied himself in Crowley’s palm, clinging to his thumb, kissing the digit eagerly as his lord lowered him back to his chest.

Aziraphale returned to pressing hot kisses over Crowley’s flesh, marking his path lovingly to Crowley’s unattended nipple and savored it hungrily. The angel’s cock ached between his legs, wanton and dripping. He couldn’t restrain himself. With Crowley moaning and rubbing encouragingly at his back, Aziraphale sat himself against the demon’s nipple and rutted against it. The angel was taken with bliss as Crowley’s moans pitched higher and he saw the demon’s toes curling in the sheets, his cock positively begging to be touched.

Aziraphale pressed his cock harder against Crowley’s nipple, lewdly rocking his hips so as to display his ass to the demon-god he knew was watching. He could hear the desperate pitch of Crowley’s voice and knew his lover was almost there, even without being touched.

“Please…” Crowley begged softly.

“A god shouldn’t have to beg,” Aziraphale whispered over his shoulder. “I’ll give you what you deserve, my Lord…” The angel crawled down Crowley’s heaving chest. Seeing Crowley’s cock so enlarged made his mouth water. Crowley whimpered as Aziraphale crept so softly over his belly, thighs parting in anticipation.

Aziraphale greedily licked up the slick that had spilled over Crowley’s belly and felt the demon tremble under him. There was no way he was going to devour  _ all  _ that Crowley had to give, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to glut himself on this indulgence. He faced Crowley’s twitching cock, as large as his entire corporation at this size, and kissed the head sweetly. Crowley was writhing, coming undone as he watched the tiny angel stroke his cock.

“May I bring you to completion like this, my Lord?” Aziraphale asked as he moved to straddle Crowley’s cock. His voice was thick with pleasure as he rubbed his own arousal against the massive cock between his legs. “I regret that I only have this much to give…”

“Yesss,” Crowley pleaded as his hips lifted from the bed to rock into the strange sensation of something gripping his cock like this. As Aziraphale’s tongue traced the crown of his cock, Crowley moaned and twisted the sheets tangled in his fingers. “Oh, angel,” he groaned. “It’s more than enough.”

Aziraphale felt every pulse of Crowley’s cock as he rocketed toward orgasm. The hot vein trapped against his cock throbbed as the demon keened with pleasure. Aziraphale ground himself against the sensitive hardness and sucked at Crowley’s over-eager flesh, tasting the salt of his desire, all the more delicious as his mouth was overwhelmed by the wealth of things to revel in.

Crowley arched off the bed with a cry and Aziraphale was rocked with the force of his orgasm. The angel shuddered to feel Crowley’s climax so intimately, utterly enveloped in every minute twitch and pulse of his coming cock.

“Oh, my love, you came so beautifully,” Aziraphale preened, milking the aftershocks with praise. The expanse of Crowley’s messy body lay before him, streaked with come. He was still wanting, not just for an orgasm, but to drink all of Crowley’s post-release ruin in, to taste his pleasure. He crept off Crowley’s softening cock and kissed his over-sensitive skin, stroking what he could reach. The angel drew himself toward his prize, and earned a groan from the demon as he lapped up some of the fresh spend from his body. He moaned at the intense taste, the utter opposite of the sweet-tart crepes he had enjoyed earlier.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley moaned as the angel tickled him with tiny licks. The angel was greedy to taste him, and he occasionally felt Aziraphale grind against him, getting sticky with his come.

By the time Aziraphale was climbing his ribs again, Crowley had begun to catch his breath. He looked down to see Aziraphale glistening, red-cheeked and blissful. He scooped the angel from his chest and brought him closer as he wore that grateful smile.

“You look a mess, angel,” he husked. “Shall I clean you up?”

Crowley’s drawling, post-bliss tone only made Aziraphale harder. “Please, my Lord? If you would be so kind…”

The demon held Aziraphale gently in his palm and gladly brought him to his lips again. He licked the shivering angel clean with a few long strokes of his tongue, and found his lover utterly pliant in the palm of his hand.

“You could go back to normal size, and I’d gladly suck your cock,” Crowley offered.

Aziraphale sighed, reclined in Crowley’s palm. “Oh, my dear, this is…” He trembled and squeezed Crowley’s fingers, “ _ delightful. _ Please…”

The demon indulged his angel with a grin, tempting his sensitive little body with his tongue. Aziraphale canted his hips forward, biting his lip as the demon’s tongue caressed him so well. Crowley was always good with his tongue, but to be so swallowed up in it was absolutely divine. His cock was already over-sensitized from grinding against Crowley, rutting in his mess, and Crowley’s tongue was all over him, covering him with pleasure. His breath hitched and his nails dug into Crowley’s palm as the demon dedicated himself to seeing to his angel.

Aziraphale’s moans devolved into begging whispers as Crowley ran his tongue over the small, hard nub of his cock, so he focused his efforts on that wanton part of his corporation. The angel couldn’t even form words as he spilled over into ecstasy, pleading as he squirmed against the tongue assaulting him.

Crowley licked his lips to give Aziraphale space to breathe, enraptured by his angel utterly undone in the literal palm of his hand. His blond hair brushed soft against his fingers as his thighs trembled. He sank gratefully into Crowley’s hand.

“Consider yourself blessed,” Crowley purred.

Aziraphale shuddered as the demon’s breath wafted over his tender flesh. “D-dear,” he begged. “Oh…”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a bit more space with an apologetic look. “That good, angel?” he asked softly.

“ _ Oh,  _ yes,” Aziraphale whispered. He gave a delicious little shiver and curled up against the cradle of Crowley’s palm. “Your  _ tongue. _ Good lord.”

Crowley grinned. “Knew it was good, but…”

Aziraphale grew softer, and Crowley melted at how precious he was in this state. “You really are that special to me, you know. Worthy of my worship,” Aziraphale insisted gently.

Crowley blushed. “I’m no  _ god, _ ” he argued.

“You are,” Aziraphale whispered. “I love you. And I trust you.” He curled up, nestling into Crowley’s palm. “Arguably more than I trust Her.”

Crowley was practically squirming under this kind of praise. “Get back to normal size,” he managed out. “I don’t want to crush you with the cuddling you’ve got coming your way.”

Aziraphale smiled and nuzzled against Crowley’s palm. “But you hold me so well like this…”

Crowley relented for a moment longer, enjoying the softness of Aziraphale’s hair against his palm.

Aziraphale hummed in contentment and slowly sat up. Crowley took this as indication that he was ready to return to normal size and turned to set the angel down on the vacant side of the bed. Aziraphale shut his eyes and with a little ‘pop,’ returned to his usual size. Crowley melted into his side and sought out his lips. As fun as it had been to veritably eat Aziraphale up in miniature, he was eager to greet the angel’s lips with his own in the typical way.

Aziraphale softened against those lips as his hands found their rightful places on Crowley’s body. It was a pleasure to feel Crowley’s slighter frame against his own once more, that sensation of completeness, like a puzzle piece notched perfectly against his dips and curves.

Crowley settled into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck with a quiet breath of amusement. “Wonder how the video turned out,” he mused.

Aziraphale chuckled. “We’ll have to give it a watch later.” The angel ran his fingers into Crowley’s hair and his lips curled into a smile one might have called devilish. “Although… that was only a trial run,” he mused. “Just a demonstration. We simply  _ must  _ make more use of the set.”

Crowley raised a brow and slowly lifted his head to rest his chin on Aziraphale’s chest.

“Wouldn’t you like to give it a go?” Aziraphale asked with a little wiggle.

That little bit of a bastard grin was at it again, and Crowley was weak. “I’ve created a monster.”

“I think you would find the experience quite fun,” Aziraphale said innocently. “Gives you a whole new  _ perspective  _ on things.”

“You’re more than a handful as is,” Crowley muttered fondly. “But you know I’m always in the palm of your hand, angel.”


End file.
